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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963388">Blustery Drop</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutRes/pseuds/OutRes'>OutRes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Romance, Cunnilingus, Danger Kink, Dirty Sex, Exhibitionism, F/F, Forest Sex, Hostage Situations, Leap of Faith, Light foot fetish, Makeup Sex, Off-Screen Naked Combat, Petra gets big MAD, Strip Tease, Unexpected Cursing, Useless Bandits, Vaginal Fingering, but not the kind you think, like literally in the mud, relationship drama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:14:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutRes/pseuds/OutRes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Diving from atop Manstone Rock, Eivor ends up paying an unexpected price... but receives an unexpected reward in turn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eivor/Petra (Assassin's Creed)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blustery Drop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> That woman is out of her mind. </em>
</p><p>But Petra, clad in a cornucopia of furs meant to shield her from the chilly Sciropescire wind, immediately remanded the thought to the rubbish pile.</p><p>After all, who was she kidding? This was <em> normal </em>for Eivor Wolf-Kissed.</p><p>Just a little more... normal... than usual.</p><p>The copper-skinned hunter peered up, up to the top of the massive cliff dominating her view. The twin peaks of Manstone Rock were but one of the many aesthetic delights of these Saxon lands, but still, even as anxious as she was, Petra couldn’t deny that the sight took her breath away.</p><p>As did the figure now peering back down at her.</p><p>Weeks ago, Eivor, struck by an unknown impulse, had sheared her golden locks straight to the skull. The new look slightly unnerved - and excited - Petra every time her lover rounded the corner to her cabin, the close-cropped hair accentuating the Viking’s fierceness. Not to mention how <em> lovely </em>the prickly hairs of her scalp felt under Petra’s fingers…</p><p>The hunter shook herself out of her revelry. Gods, this wasn’t the time.</p><p>Her love shouted down from her great height. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid!”</p><p>The Viking’s eyes were as her currently-absent pet raven Synin’s, naturally. </p><p>“No, my love!” Petra yelled, as hard as she could. She didn’t know if her slight voice carried as well in this wind as Eivor’s Odin-worthy roar did, but it apparently <em> did, </em>the steward of the Raven Clan breaking from her crouch and readying herself.</p><p>Readying herself for the dive.</p><p>This hadn’t been the original intent of their trip, of course. Eivor hadn’t actually tromped into Petra and her brother Wallace’s hut, huskily whispering in her ear, “Love of my life, let’s elope on a week-long journey to a cold pair of peaks and risk my life and the future of the clan on a silly stunt that will likely cleave my spirit from my body.”</p><p>No, Eivor had business in Sciropescire. Something having to do with the appointment of an ealdorman, Petra had gleaned from her love’s brief request for her to come along. </p><p>It was an <em> odd </em> request, in retrospect, but Petra had figured that her lover had finally tired of the solitary adventuring life. She <em> dared </em>to hope that Eivor had finally realized that there was more to life than the singular glory of solving England’s ills and fomenting alliances through all manner of violent end.</p><p>Glimmers of that alternative truth had snuck through here and there, in the time Petra had spent with her Eivor. A beaming smile here, a thoughtful saying there. It was the reason why she had stuck it out through the Viking’s many absences from Ravensthorpe.</p><p>Also, Eivor ate her cunt like a woman possessed.</p><p>But that quality was neither here nor there as Petra stood at the edge of the small lake the Viking had suddenly and wordlessly led their horses to, upon sighting Manstone Rock. The hunter had barraged her with questions, small things like “Where are we?” and “Weren’t we to be in the town by nightfall?” only to be met with a peck on the lips - for luck, she now presumed - and the sight of Eivor running off to climb upon the rockface.</p><p>The questions stopped as Petra bore witness - half in awe and half in disquiet - to her love’s attacking the hard rock like her hands and feet were made of Thor’s own steel, scrambling up the side of the cliff with nary a pause to rest.</p><p>The afternoon sun threw a wide-cast silhouette against the rock, giving Eivor the appearance of a great beast surmounting nature’s own teeth. This too, was part of the woman’s allure; around her, Petra had the nagging feeling that she was bearing witness to one of Odin’s chosen, returned to Earth, Midgar, or whatever the Danes in Ravensthorpe called it, for some nebulous purpose. </p><p>The wind bit at Petra, even under the many furs. And Eivor was wearing much less, just her usual attire for traveling: A leather cuirass under a shoulder-wrapped fur cloak and hood, and under <em> that</em>, the teal-dyed tunic of the Raven Clan. Well-worn pants and boots. And, of course, those strange knife-tipped gauntlets of hers.</p><p>At least she’d left the rest of her weapons at their impromptu camp. But Petra worried that they’d never be wielded again, at this rate.</p><p>The Wolf-Kissed stood at the edge, looking down at Petra and all of creation. The hunter wanted <em> so badly </em>to cry out, to tell her not to do this crushingly stupid thing. But this strange, building excitement deep in her core held Petra steady through the momentary fear.</p><p>Eivor’s voice rang out from atop the rock, traveling across the midlands.</p><p>“Thor, Tyr, Frejya, Odin, and, oh, my great love, Petra!” she began. “I do this…<em> for you</em>!”</p><p>The hunter shivered again, the brisk waves of Eivor’s furious admiration for her buffeting Petra inside and out.</p><p>But those invisible tides had <em> nothing </em>on what Eivor did next.</p><p>Petra’s mouth fell agape as her eyes refocused upon the Viking, the beginnings of a blush evident on her tan cheeks.</p><p>Eivor was… <em> baring </em>herself.</p><p>By no means did Petra have anything approaching a chaste outlook on their relationship, but for how intimate they got, their affairs were still conducted in a darkened corner here, a private bedroom in the longhouse there. Never out in the open.</p><p>Until now.</p><p>Petra bit the inside of her cheek, looking back down the path they’d come. No nefarious onlookers were within her sight, though that could change at any time.</p><p>Meanwhile, Eivor had already cast off the fur cloak, and was now coolly working at the clasps and belts holding the leather cuirass to her muscled form.  </p><p>Petra so wanted to voice the obvious questions, much as she’d done before, but her lover’s driven demeanor left her as quiet as a titmouse. Eivor was positively stoic as she disrobed, the finally-undone armor shucked to the side, with unbelted gauntlets following soon after.</p><p>She was stripping purely for the dive, the hunter told herself. Yes, of course. How stupid of her to assume…</p><p>Eivor grasped both tunic and breastwrap in one singular grip, pulling them both over her head with the duty-bound embellishment of a standard-bearer.</p><p>Petra nearly fell straight over. Visions of nipples atop very slight, very adorable breasts, pebbling to stony hardness in the beyond-frigid air, took over her sight. Beneath the furs, she was suddenly <em> very warm </em>. </p><p>So warm, in fact, that her hand strayed to the ties that kept the sheltering coat closed. </p><p>Far above, Eivor dropped her upper coverings to the hard stone... and pushed her <em> lower </em>coverings down pale, toned legs. </p><p>Far below, Petra’s furs fell to the shore with a notable <em> *whump* </em>. Their owner sighed in heady relief as her flame fanned outwards, unrestrained.</p><p>Too far up for the hunter’s eyes to observe, Eivor’s lips curved upwards in silent bemusement. The near-Amazonian Viking stepped out of her trousers, hide and fur boots still attached to her feet.</p><p>Petra was unsurprised at this; it’d ruin the moment for Eivor to suddenly hunker down up there and spend precious minutes working at the many fastenings and layers of the hardy footwear. Even the very thought of it threatened to quash her fire, so the notion was thrown aside as the hunter’s eyes bore in on the far-away sight of her lover’s golden, gleaming flower.</p><p>Petra’s fingers dug at her own wet petals, still hidden under the baggy grey material of her hunting trousers. Rubbing the rough fabric over her needful pussy felt good, but was as to Eivor’s practiced touch as Midgar was to Asgard. She no longer cared that they were out in nature, before the Gods and all the mortals who may wander by; Petra <em> needed </em>her lover.</p><p>Now.</p><p>Thankfully, Eivor was presently obliging.  </p><p>The first thing to fall was not Eivor herself, but a hastily-tied-together bundle of clothes and armor. The improvised pile wafted down the great height with surprising lightness… until scattering along the shore like refuse thrown from a Lunden apartment.</p><p>Petra didn’t even notice. Her attention was elsewhere.</p><p>Eivor Wolf-Kissed strode to the very edge of the cliff, betraying neither hesitance nor fear. Her eyes locked forward, facing the horizon of both the world and her own mind.</p><p>Spreading her arms, she lept.</p><p>Her hunter gasped. She’d seen the Viking perform the same feat a number of times, yes, but never from such a height.</p><p>Eivor, on the other hand, handled the leap just like she’d practiced in the month prior, twirling through the freezing air until she was but a rivet being thrust into the earth. Petra, unknowing of that little detail, regarded the pale, naked blur with a mix of horror and arousal, not knowing if this was the last she’d see of her lover alive.</p><p>The blur met the water, needle-like in form and precision, disappearing completely beneath its shimmering surface.</p><p>Then, silence.</p><p>Petra froze, hand over mouth. The heat in her loins, once as encompassing as the sun in the sky, shrank immensely at the dawning realization that Eivor may have just killed herself, all for Petra.</p><p>But then something emerged from the depths of the icy pond.</p><p>Two somethings, actually.</p><p>The blurry, brown shapes resolved to boot soles and matted fur, clearly shorn apart by watery impact. </p><p>Petra had barely finished registering the objects in her anxiety-addled mind when a larger form burst up between them.</p><p>A coughing, laughing, and <em> incredibly reckless </em> form.</p><p>Something snapped in the hunter as she realized what she’d almost witnessed, and worse, that she’d been <em> excited </em>by the endeavor.</p><p>Letting out a breath that felt like it’d been held in for an eternity, Petra marshaled her shame and angrily stomped into the water, heedless of the cold or her quickly-dampening clothes. </p><p>“You!” the hunter roared in the fiercest voice she could manage.</p><p>Eivor, having become so accustomed to the peaceful, doting Petra of Ravensthorpe town, stopped dead in her merriment. She mutely bobbed in the water as her lover - though that was now quickly becoming an open question - stood, hands on hips, as far out as she could without losing her footing.</p><p>“I can’t believe I fucking love <em> you</em>!” Eivor had never heard her curse before. “You, who disappear for weeks at a time, gallivanting around with your raiders, risking your neck doing nonsense like this!</p><p>The Viking gulped. Her face conveyed what her voice did not: <em> Oh, shit. </em></p><p>“Where do you get off thinking that <em> constantly </em>placing your life in danger makes me love you more?</p><p>Eivor paddled to even ground, struggling to find the right words. </p><p>“I…” </p><p>Unfortunately, Petra wasn’t having it. “Oh, don’t even try.” she bit out, before trudging back onto shore. Face wet with tears, she mounted her horse, and was off down the path before Eivor could even get out of the water.</p><p>“Petra, wait!”</p><p>But the hunter was gone.</p><p>**********</p><p>A storm of horse hooves broke the quiet of the countryside.</p><p>This had been farther out than Petra had ever traveled; the roads were unfamiliar. But her keen hunter’s sense of direction held true, and deep down she knew she could probably make it back to Ravensthorpe with little issue.</p><p>And let Eivor continue on with whatever rash gallivanting she’d planned in Sciropescire.</p><p>The heat of Petra’s anger had cooled slightly, transforming into embers of smouldering disappointment. She was mad, yes, at her lover’s - or was it ex-lover, now - devil-may-care outlook on life, but even more at <em> herself </em> for encouraging it in the way she did today.</p><p>She reached up, wiping away a fresh set of tears.</p><p>
  <em> I should have stopped her cold, instead of gawking like a child. </em>
</p><p>The cool slick in her trousers reminded her that it was worse than that, even.</p><p>Petra bellowed a vexed groan, kicking as she edged her horse onwards. She wanted to be away from this place.</p><p>This place, however, decreed otherwise.</p><p>It took some time for Petra’s senses to recover from what happened next.</p><p>In one moment, she’d fiercely rounded the bend towards the half-forest, half-bog that demarcated the separation between Sciropescire and its neighboring holds.</p><p>In the next, she was on her side in the dirt, all aches and bruises. Her horse, likewise, and motionless at that.</p><p>Petra rolled over, coughing, eyes and ears trying to focus, trying to shut out the shock of impact.</p><p>When they did, they noted a few things: </p><p>One - the loyal animal’s legs were bent at a most unnatural angle, half-ensconced in a furrow clearly dug into the road.</p><p>Two - the bushes just off said road were <em> moving</em>.</p><p>Three figures emerged, though Petra could smell them before that.</p><p>The hunter hated to place people into categories, but life experience had often forced her to do so, and this instance proved no exception.</p><p>Bandits. </p><p>The smallest one, an older, pale woman with a long, frayed braid and a shining silver belt buckle, spoke in a near-croak.</p><p>“The horse. Get her things.” She tapped the largest one, a middle-aged man with burdened eyes, on the shoulder as she spoke.</p><p>He and another man - a brother, maybe even a son - moved off towards the downed creature.</p><p>Leaving her and Petra. Their eyes met, the hunter’s open, confused fear mingling with the woman’s calculating stare.</p><p>“Nice furs.”</p><p>Petra’s mind raced, adrenaline surging through her veins. Her bow was on the horse. Her knife was on the horse. The only thing that <em> was </em>on her own self…</p><p>The bandit leader continued, her dirt-stained, axe-armed hand extending. “I think I’ll take-”</p><p>“No need.”</p><p>Petra counted a slight, silent blessing that she hadn’t broken anything, that she still held firm control of her voice and muscles. She held a hand out, stopping the bandit in her tracks.</p><p>The ruffian was befuddled. She had expected a mewling victim, not a damned barterer.</p><p>The hunter worked at her great cloak, taking it from her shoulders…</p><p>...and in the same movement, flung it <em> hard </em>at the bandit.</p><p>The heavy furs acted as a catch net, covering the now-cursing bandit from head-to-toe. Still, the woman stood her ground, and was about to cast it off - and fling her axe into the head of this precocious maiden - when she was suddenly felled by <em> another </em>great weight.</p><p>Petra was up, and unwilling to go back down while she still had life in her.</p><p>The women tumbled to the ground, the axe blessedly clattering out of the bandit’s grip.</p><p>The men looked up from their pillaging, surprise evident in their expressions.</p><p>Through the cloak, Petra levered a knee right into where she believed her opponent’s nethers to be -  judging by the pained groan, she was right on target - and dove left for the axe.</p><p>The others had begun to rush over, swords and pitchforks in hand, but it was too late. The hunter had her prey.</p><p>For, in a few brief seconds, Petra had snagged the axe, pulled the heaving bandit from under the furs, and positioned the weapon at the woman’s neck.</p><p>A few more seconds passed. All was quiet but for the strained breathing of captor and hostage.</p><p>Judging by their unsure glares, Petra guessed the men had never before faced this sort of situation, had never been suddenly at the mercy of their supposed “lessers.”</p><p>So, the hunter spoke first. </p><p>“Your horses. Where are they?”</p><p>Some more silence. Then the younger of the men started, nervous words bubbling forth like a stream. “W-we don’t have any. We walked here, I-I mean, we all live in a house over the hi-”</p><p>The older smacked him upside the head, his voice and captive leader’s crying out near in unison, “Quiet!”</p><p>He then appraised Petra with a dangerous, almost-lascivious eye. “There’s more of us, you know. And they’re already on their way.”</p><p>The hunter barely repressed a gulp. That was a problem.</p><p>All the possible scenarios played out in her head, few of them ending terribly well for her. The best of them involved taking off at a dead sprint into the treeline, hoping to lose her pursuers in there.</p><p>It was a dicey proposition, that much she understood. After all, these simpletons <em> lived </em>here, and likely knew the forest, its nooks and crannies. They’d probably catch her, and that would be it.</p><p>But it was still her best chance.</p><p>Petra prepared herself, subtly making ready to kick the old woman into her accomplices, giving herself the means to break free.</p><p>But a sound, from far up the road, made her freeze.</p><p>Sound<em>s.</em>A horse’s clip-clop, repeating at a breakneck pace.</p><p>All four of them heard it, looked to its source. But only Petra smiled as she did.</p><p>For all her assorted qualms, having a Viking as a lover <em> did </em>have its advantages.</p><p>**********</p><p>In all, it was a quick and bloody affair.</p><p>Eivor had simply rode in and slayed the stupefied men in a few swipes of her greatsword, with Petra drawing her own share of blood out of their leader’s wrinkled hide.</p><p>They both booked it for the forest, knowing the Viking’s horse couldn’t possibly carry the both of them away in time to avoid notice.</p><p>And as they ran, Petra was flustered, but not from the exertion of the fight, or even the run.</p><p>No, it was the fact that Eivor was still <em> completely naked</em>.</p><p>Even with her focus mostly devoted to getting out of sight in time, Petra’s eyes couldn’t help but lustily flicker over to Eivor running right beside her, the Viking’s slim breasts rolling to and fro in all the commotion. Their nipples were hard, of course, but the hunter wasn’t entirely sure if the breeze was more the cause than the pure, unadulterated excitement of it all.</p><p>Feeling her own engorged, sensitive teats rub enticingly against the inside of her tunic, she knew the latter was true for her. </p><p>That arousal persisted as they both made it under the leafy yet dank canopy. Petra made for a crook between two near-embracing oaks, darting forward… at least she would have, had Eivor not snatched her hand back, forcing her to a quick stop.</p><p>Petra was perplexed, and somewhat disappointed. “What are you doing, we have to keep-”</p><p>“Wait,” the Viking hoarsely whispered. She guided herself and the slightly-shorter woman out of sight, behind a tree with great roots and branches dotting much of its thick bark. Her sight fixed itself back upon the clearing.</p><p>Petra followed it, past the sight of their brief battle, to the hillside. To the dark shapes now cresting it. </p><p>Both Viking and hunter pressed against the tree and each other as they witnessed these figures, too far away to determine if they were man or woman, young or old, making their way down the hill. Slow at first, then with a frenzied quickness as they took in the carnage.</p><p>Though the women couldn’t see them well, they could certainly <em> hear </em>them, as all manner of Saxon curses began to darken the midday clearing. </p><p>Eivor’s grip on the side of the tree tightened as she pondered her gambit. She’d sent the horse - sword bound to its harness - away down the road. With luck, they’d see the hoof marks, and assume that their attackers’... attackers simply rode off on their merry way.</p><p>She ground her teeth as ideas came to her, far too late now, of more she could have done to sell the ruse. They should have taken valuables off the bodies; jewelry, a pair of boots, maybe… Anything to indicate that her and her own were long gone.</p><p>The curses found themselves replaced with cries of sorrow and despair. This was a family, all right. One that turned to banditry to solve their ills, but a family nonetheless. Despite her renown as a warrior, Eivor was known to be softhearted in certain moments, and this was one of them.</p><p>She closed her eyes, head bowing forward slightly in recognition of those whose lives she’d-</p><p>“Oh, <em> fuck them</em>.”</p><p>Eivor craned her neck back in surprise, clearly still adjusting to what she perceived as Petra’s currently-boiling temper. </p><p>The hunter caught her lover’s worried glare… and found herself surprised that she even had to explain herself. “Eivor, they had me at their mercy. If you hadn’t rode in, they’d have killed me, or..” She shivered, despite the warm and muggy air.</p><p>Eivor, her brain finally catching up to her heart, slowly closed her eyes and ground the back of head against the tree in abject embarrassment. A blush formed on her alabaster cheeks. Petra noticed.    </p><p>The heat inside her, that which had been smothered by the day’s earlier disappointment… sparked. Ever so slightly.</p><p>The Viking opened her eyes, yet kept them downcast. “Of course,” she said. A resigned sigh blew out from her lips as she turned back to survey the bandits. They’d finished picking over the fallen horse’s saddlebags and appeared to be now gathering their dead. A single figure, small - maybe a boy - stood looking over the great pasture, fruitlessly looking for footprints made invisible by the tall grass.</p><p>Eivor spoke solemnly as she watched him, and his kin. </p><p>“You were right.”</p><p>The sparks, previously flitting about to little effect, finally found purchase in the dampened pit that was Petra’s heart. Her breathing slowed as her eyes narrowed in on the sunlit curvature of Eivor’s face, that driven, yet stoic visage. For Petra knew she wasn’t just referring to the bandits.</p><p>The Viking’s voice croaked with emotion. “When I’m not with you, I… I am alone.”</p><p>“I mean, yes, I have my raiders, my allies, my…” She darkly gestured to the road, the trap that had been set. “...enemies.”</p><p>“But when I look at them, I don’t see them as… as an ‘us’. I see them as, well, ‘them’.”</p><p>Even as her heart was bursting at the seams, Petra couldn’t help a quiet humor at her lover’s terribly awkward manner of spilling hers.</p><p>“Even between myself and my brother, it’s been ‘me against them’. A constant battle, even when the swords are sheathed and the axes cast down.”</p><p>Eivor’s head dipped as the weight of her words dragged at her soul.</p><p>“It doesn’t give me a lot of room to consider the feelings of those who care for me, only those who wish to surmount me.”</p><p>Petra pondered those words, remembering. Even at Ravensthorpe, at <em> home</em>, Eivor’s position with those who lived there was still tenuous, especially with her brother missing and the recent tragedy involving her second, Dag.</p><p>“Today…” She turned back to Petra, hand forming a fist that she tensely held to her forehead, as if she was stabbing it in fury. “I forgot this is not so with you. I realize that… back there, on the cliff, I was trying to impress you like I would a friend, a rival.”</p><p>“I did this because… because I…”</p><p>Her eyes grew heavy with moisture, and Petra’s couldn’t help but mirror them as she herself recognized her Eivor’s plight, and spoke the words that she couldn’t.</p><p>“You don’t know how to make ‘us’ work.”</p><p>The Viking sniffled, her closed lips twisting in agony as she tried - and failed - to hold back her nascent grief.</p><p>Her voice squeaked. “<em> Yes </em>.”</p><p>Tears streaked the warrior’s battle shadow, but before they’d even reached her firm cheekbones, Petra was there, embracing the Viking despite everything.</p><p>“Oh, Petra, <em> I hate it all</em>.”</p><p>They kissed. The hunter pressed the Viking against the tree, voicing her comprehension in the best way she knew in that very moment. Petra captured her lover's head in her loving hands, running them amongst the tiny, sharp hairs of Eivor’s shorn scalp. </p><p>Eivor stiffened at the contact, yet brought her own hands up to Petra’s head, cradling it as the pair smothered each other in needy kisses.</p><p>When they broke for air, the Viking continued, her words calmer, yet even more halting.</p><p>“I feel like I’m in a trap. But one made by my own actions, my own life.”</p><p>She affixed Petra with a look of such despondency that it practically burned itself into the hunter’s corneas.  “And... I don’t know how to be good to you.”</p><p>Petra couldn’t help but bury herself in her poor warrior’s embrace, the side of her head resting against the other woman’s broad collarbone. Eyes turnt, she noticed the likewise-morose bandits trudging back up the hillside, their relatives’ bodies slung over their shoulders.</p><p>They’d given up the search. Eivor’s gambit had worked.</p><p>Petra shut her eyes in plain relief… and moderate consternation at her own actions. Yes, Eivor was in the wrong for the cliff-diving affair - she’d just admitted as much - but the hunter hadn’t truly considered Viking life’s awful, constant weight on her lover. </p><p>A voice towards the back of her head reminded her that it was Eivor’s choice regardless, to get mixed up in her dangerous business, to worry her so. Yet another countered with the notion that it was all too easy to make such a judgment from the perspective of somebody <em> not </em>mixed up in Eivor’s brand of business.</p><p>Petra sighed at the murkiness of it all. Eivor trembled as the woman’s breath tickled the fine hairs on her shoulder and bicep. </p><p>The other woman felt the Viking shake, and sadly chuckled as she realized the source. She craned her head back up, an arrowhead’s length from her lover’s face.</p><p>“I suppose I haven’t been fair to you either, darling. I’m sorry for my…” Petra cringed at the memory of her repeated vulgarities throughout the afternoon. “...harsh words, earlier.”</p><p>Eivor looked at her with the biggest, bluest, earnest-est eyes she’d ever seen. “You were in the right.”</p><p>Her hunter returned the look with more than a bit of coyness. “Perhaps.”</p><p>The coyness remained as her hand drifted down towards Eivor’s rear, its owner becoming acutely aware of her lover’s unclothed state.</p><p>The Viking stiffened yet again as Petra lightly kneaded the flesh of her butt, sullied by dirt and roots and sweat but no less sensitive. A fresh sheen topped the woman’s forehead as her pelvis unconsciously gyrated against her lover’s body. And then Eivor straightened a <em> third </em>time as a jolt of pleasure shot up from her bare pussy, already tickled by the open air.</p><p>Eivor blinked as the realization finally set in. Yes, she <em> was </em> completely bare, wasn’t she? Her clothes and armor, long discarded back at the cliffs. Her lover, despite all the drama and disappointment, rutting against her - and she against <em> her </em>- like animals in heat.</p><p>“Petra…”</p><p>“Yes, my dear?”</p><p>Eivor paused, heavy in breath and heady with arousal.</p><p>“Here?”</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>And then Petra began.</p><p>She unleashed a torrent, a veritable <em> barrage </em>of fresh kisses on the Viking, steadily working her way down the woman’s great neck to her freckled chest. There, Petra practically latched on to Eivor’s nipples like a wee babe, teasing and sucking at the dusky teats.</p><p>These had already been made sensitive as she’d chased after the hunter on horseback, the air whipping at her water-chilled body. And as she’d run with her lover, the breeze bracing them even <em> further</em>.</p><p>So it was an understandable reaction for Eivor to nearly lose her footing, collapsing against the tree as pleasure overtook her motor functions. As she did, the nipple of Petra’s deep affection pulled taut for a split-second, then left her mouth with an audible *pop*.</p><p>Petra used this opportunity to travel even further down, wet tongue tracing a path down Eivor’s well-defined abdominals, stopping momentarily to tease her belly button. The hunter hid a grimace at the acrid taste of lint and jam atop her tongue, but the resulting spasm out of her lover made it all worth it.</p><p><em> Gods</em>, how she wanted to touch herself.</p><p>But no, that was Eivor’s pilgrimage to make..</p><p>Almost as if to punctuate the thought, Petra, now kneeling in the wet mud, dipped below her lover’s taut belly. Her nose lazily sifted through the thatch of curly yellow hairs there, smelling horse and sweat and arousal in equal parts.</p><p>And yet she skipped the next trail-marker, the Viking’s <em> very </em>engorged clit, in favor of using her hands to spread apart Eivor’s pussy lips, revealing a hole practically dripping with the warrior’s neediness.</p><p>Eivor’s resulting groan seemed to back that up. But it quickly turned into a keening whine as Petra plunged her tongue past the Viking’s labia, wetly easing in and out of her depths like an oar in water. Her eyes rolled up into her head as her senses were transported to Valhalla. </p><p>Petra could feel Eivor’s inner flesh tensing as she tongued her, so she played into the role even harder, slavishly exploring the nooks and crannies of the warrior’s birthing canal and mapping out her territory far beyond her prior explorations.</p><p>Eivor had long since dug her fingers into this hunter’s raven locks, holding onto her skull for dear life. She numbly realized that her peak was fastly approaching, either through Petra’s pressing of her eager clit, or…</p><p>The implied thought was voiced <em> immediately </em> as Petra’s tongue darted upwards in its teasing movements, finding Eivor’s <em> other </em> sensitive spot. The Viking let out a resounding cry as her dam broke, waves of pleasure leaving her like the tremors of an earthquake. Her fluids spurted onto not only the muddy ground but also <em> into </em>Petra’s waiting mouth, the victorious hunter being more than happy to lap up her sap.</p><p>Eivor’s strength flagged and fluttered; sensing this, Petra helped guide her down to the forest floor until she lay sprawled on her leafy throne, framed by great tree roots. Where a more posh sensibility may have objected to the feeling of wet mud creeping into every pore and orifice, Eivor instead welcomed the cooling sensation against her rose-red flesh. </p><p>Petra placed a single, flavorful kiss on her reclining lover’s lips, then set to her own affairs. She’d become aware that she was <em> dripping</em>; not just in a sensual sense, but also a very literal one. After all, the hunter had dressed for blustery hilltops, and now she was near-roasting in a dank bog of a forest.</p><p>Truly, she couldn’t ditch the furs fast enough.</p><p>Still somewhat dazed, Eivor’s head lolled back, her eyes lazily regarding her love. For the second time in as many hours, Petra’s great fur shawl fell to the ground, splattering mud all over. A bit got on the Viking, but she didn’t mind; rather, she delighted in spreading the cool sludge across the burning expanse of her chest.</p><p>Petra’s eyes tracked down to her lover, growing heavy with lust. “<em>Fuck</em>, darling,” she murmured as she pulled off her satchel and belt, “you always know how to make use of your surroundings.” Eivor, idly playing with her clit with a much-soiled finger, winked at her in reply.</p><p>The hunter sighed, inebriated by it all. She tore her cloth bracers off - she could always craft more back at home, after all - and tugged at the waistwrap keeping her maroon tunic closed, loosening it to the point of utter slackness. As the dark fabric joined the rest of the ensemble, Petra undid the last few catches below her collar, then shimmied out of the whole thing.</p><p>Even though it was only marginally cooler out here, Petra blew out a breath in easy relief as the layer of sweat on her skin met the air.</p><p><em> Now *this* is more like it</em>.</p><p>Eivor, meanwhile, was more focused on the svelte curves of the hunter’s gleaming, copper-toned torso, and the large dark areola of her full breasts. She bit her lip, increasing the speed of her dirty ministrations.</p><p>Petra looked upon the sight of her lover, supine in masturbation and sticky with mud… and had an idea.</p><p>She clicked her tongue, and Eivor slowed. “Look who we have here… a mud-covered brute from the swamps.” The Viking’s eyes widened in confusion, but only for a moment as Petra continued her faux-pietist monologue. “Doesn’t know how to read, or even speak. She only knows killing.”</p><p>“And <em> fucking.</em>”</p><p>At this, the “brute” practically stabbed at her button, theatrically grunting in rhythm as she did. </p><p>Petra tried - and failed - to suppress a giggle, but bravely soldiered on. “And… and now, she will service me,” she pompously stated, “in the way of her people. For she is... at my mercy!”</p><p>Gods, she was bad at this.</p><p>Eivor didn’t seem to mind, though. She stilled her motion, looking up at Petra with the wide, innocent eyes of a servant. The hunter pondered for a moment, then lifted her foot outwards. </p><p>“Undress me, knave!” she spouted.</p><p>Eivor was halfway through a “As you wish” before she caught herself, coughing and grunting to hide her mistake. But Petra simply beamed.</p><p>Clearing her throat, Eivor levered herself up into a sitting position, the mud under her squelching as she moved. For a brief moment, she contemplated the dirt-sullied foot wrap that her lover wore; she never truly understood why Petra insisted on wearing them, and not something a little more hardy.</p><p>Acting on that thought, Eivor reached out, grasping the hunter’s heel. Then, she merely tore away the cloth coverings… or at least tried to. The material was surprisingly thick, and no matter how hard Eivor tried, it simply would not tear.</p><p>Petra chortled, only half in-character. “I see my little warrior can’t figure out something as <em> simple </em>as undoing a foot covering.” She tutted. “Shame.”</p><p>But a single word caught in Eivor’s mind. <em> Undo</em>. And then she remembered. All the times she’d laid with Petra, the hunter had her footwraps off in just a handful of heartbeats. Eivor had never really paid attention as to <em> how</em>, her mind then being focused on other, more carnal, impulses, but now it had clicked.</p><p>She looked over the surface of the material, up Petra’s calf… and found it: A nearly-unnoticeable knot, half-tucked into one of the binds. The Viking fished it out, undid it, and soon she was unraveling the whole thing. As more of the bare skin of Petra’s lower leg became revealed, the dank air became even more pungent with the long-bottled perspirations of a hard day.</p><p>It was like perfume to Eivor.</p><p>When she got to the hunter’s little foot, she was easily able to pull the wrap away entirely, setting it aside and letting herself admire the view. Petra’s cream-brown feet were concurrently rough-hewn and dainty, owing to her lifestyle but also her lover’s tender attentions. Eivor played that more-familiar role here, placing chaste kisses on sweaty toes and caressing the worn heel with massaging fingers.</p><p>Petra went silent but for the occasional sigh, clearly delighting in Eivor’s service. But standing on one foot, even with the Viking’s support, began to take its toll, and so Petra regretfully lowered her foot back to the ground. The cooling sensation that met it was adequate compensation, however.</p><p>She was about to “order” Eivor to take her other foot, but her lover had suddenly adopted a playful look in her eyes.</p><p>
  <em> Uh-oh. </em>
</p><p>In a flash, Eivor’s grip on her foot ratcheted up to her calf. A simple tug, and Petra was flailing about, struggling for balance. Her eyes sighted the Viking’s coy smirk, its owner subtly beckoning her forward. And so she did just that.</p><p>Petra fell onto her lover, whose grin had devolved into a full-on laughing fit. Eivor could feel herself sinking deeper into the mud under the hunter’s weight, the creeping, yet slick feeling exciting her even further. The authoritative voice of her role-playing partner returned, albeit half-heartedly in mirth.</p><p>“How… dare you,” the half-naked woman sputtered, trying to elevate her voice above her cushion’s guffaws, “you, you…” But before she could even find a term to properly summate Eivor, the Viking-in-question claimed her gaping mouth with her own.</p><p>Freed from the burden, Petra sunk into her lover, body and soul. Eivor’s core tingled as she tasted her own arousal on the hunter’s tongue. The tingle transformed into a hum as her hips, nearly of their own volition, began to gyrate into the rough cloth covering Petra’s thigh. The raven-haired woman, for her part, began to respond in kind, grinding against Eivor as she continued to smooch the Viking’s grimy lips.</p><p>But Eivor froze suddenly, despite the growing thrum in her nethers. Mentally, she kicked herself. Here she was, already on her way to her second orgasm… and her Petra hadn’t even had <em> one</em>. Well, this wouldn’t do.</p><p>With a grunt, Eivor pulled away from Petra’s mouth and twisted in her grasp. Before the hunter was even cognizant of what was happening, she was on her back, the Viking now perched <em> above</em>, sludge dripping off her arms and shoulders. Petra couldn’t help but squirm at the sudden reversal, and the feeling of body-heated mud under her.</p><p>They remained like that for a moment, still, breathing heavily into each other's faces, hazel eyes looking deeply into frost-green ones. They both understood; it was just Petra and Eivor now.</p><p>Then Eivor’s gleamed, manically.</p><p>Petra squeaked as the Viking got on all-fours, moving down and nearly ripping off her trousers. Her heart started beating wildly as her body became exposed to the forest, the only scrap remaining on her a now-forgotten footwrap. But <em> Gods</em>, this was the most turned-on she’d ever been.</p><p>Eivor had already picked up on that extraordinary arousal, buffeted by Petra’s scent the second she pulled the hunter’s pants off. Now on her knees, straddling the woman, she couldn’t help but grind her snatch against her lover’s. Blond curls intermingled with jet-black ones as the flesh below mashed and gnashed together like putty.</p><p>Both women moaned as their clits made a teasing, all-too-momentary contact. Petra flexed against the ground as her nerves sparked, her raven mane mixing freely with the mud and twigs below as its owner lost the capacity to control her body’s movements. </p><p>Eivor, several degrees more in control, shifted her weight to her arms as she pivoted down from atop Petra, laying on her stomach in between the hunter’s spread legs. The dark flesh of the woman’s pussy presented only the barest of contrasts from the thick nest of black hairs above and around it; it’d always reminded Eivor of a musty, foreboding cave.</p><p>And so, like any good adventurer, she strode right in.</p><p>Petra tasted of honey and cinnamon, of anger and fear. These delectable sensations overwhelmed Eivor through their intractable nuance; she was unable to stop herself from crying out even as her tongue whisked itself around the hunter’s passages. Her free hand squished in the mud below, trying to match the ministrations that she herself was dishing out on her lover.</p><p>The subject of those same ministrations whined a resounding keen, her hips bucking against Eivor, the strong thighs attached to them flexing unconsciously. Even before she’d divested herself of her clothes, Petra had been <em> dangerously </em>close to her peak, through the plain virtue of seeing Eivor stripped of everything but her love.</p><p>Now that the Viking had turned that love back onto her ten-fold, she couldn’t help but imagine herself at the top of the same cliff that had served as the catalyst for this strange, wild adventure. With every lick, every brush of nose against clit, she found herself closer and closer to the edge. She chanced a look downwards.</p><p>Eivor peered up at her from below.</p><p>Those <em> damn </em>eyes, so full of earnest, tireless devotion, were what finally sent her over the edge.</p><p>The keen blew out into a wail as Petra came. This in turn sent Eivor over her own cliff yet again; the hunter could numbly feel the vibrations of her lover crying out into her snatch as they both flowed out onto the ground.</p><p>And then, all was silent but for heavy, happy breaths of air, and the squish of mud as Eivor tiredly moved back up to embrace her Petra.</p><p>They laid there for an amount of time unknowable to them, marking itself only when the light filtering through the canopy began to dim, and the ground began to chill.</p><p>Petra, relaxed and resolved, was the one to voice the inevitable question: “Where <em> are </em>your clothes?”</p><p>Eivor, similarly sedate: “Back at the cliff. Scattered along the shoreline.”</p><p>Ah, yes. That had been quite a mess, hadn’t it?</p><p>The hunter maintained her casual tone, nestling deeper into her naked, mud-covered lover’s cuddle. “The horse?”</p><p>Eivor took a moment to ponder, and then replied, “Probably grazing a few miles south of here.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Petra answered in turn.</p><p>“Well…” she added, abruptly raising herself on unsteady legs and extending a hand to her prostrate lover. “Shall we?”</p><p>For a few long seconds, Eivor stared at the hand, genuinely wondering if this all had merely been an incredible dream. Would taking it wake her up?</p><p>She chuckled. Only one way to find out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not nearly enough Petra fics out there (and practically no smutfic at that!) so I decided to take the initiative upon wrapping up my Valhalla playthrough. I also hope y'all enjoyed the metacommentary on how romanceable NPCs are treated in this game; hopefully that's improved upon in the DLC.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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